


show me (put on a show)

by MoMoMomma



Series: Kinktober 2018 [22]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Coming In Pants, Drinking, Frottage, Lapdance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 17:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: “Needy thing.”“Who’s talking?” Rook’s out of breath but it comes out sharp anyhow. “You’re on me like a dog. How else am I supposed to act?”





	show me (put on a show)

Rook might as well be walking on absolute _air_ right now. He’d taken a big risk, moving all the way to Hope County, Montana to make it as a Sheriff’s Deputy after one tour too many in the Army. But it had paid off and he starts tomorrow night, 9 on the nose. There’s hustle and bustle at the moment, some murmurs about a marshal calling the Sheriff a few days back, but it doesn’t matter.

He did it. Moved from home, away from the faux-safety net the Army provided with barracks and housing close to his brothers in arms. Took a step out into the world on his own.

And he needs to celebrate that.

He’s with Pratt, another one of the Deputies who has teased him about everything from his hair to the way he ties his shoes, but who’d clapped him on the shoulder the second he walked from the Sheriff’s office--grin stretching so wide it _hurt_ \--and demanded they go out to celebrate. They’re on their way to Lolo, a little town between Hope County and Missoula, where Pratt has stated his intention to “get the Rookie sloshed out of his _mind_.”

Rook’s excited. Not for the drinking as much as just...doing whatever he wants. Pratt’s already promised to stay sober enough to drive so Rook can get as wild as he wants. He hasn’t actually been drunk in--well, an embarrassingly long time. He always stayed sober, even on base, just because he never knew when someone would call him yelling for a medic. He doesn’t want to get sloppy drunk out of his mind his first time out with a brand new coworker but...it’s tempting.

More so when Pratt pushes him towards the bar with a hand on his shoulder, handing over his credit card with a grin and an order to “start a tab” despite Rook’s protests about having his own money. He’ll just leave cash or something stuck in Pratt’s desk tomorrow.

Which he can _do_. Because he’ll have his own desk. Because he’s a _Deputy_ now. 

Rook’s just polishing off his first beer, fingers slipping around the shot that’s neatly placed in front of him with a wink when a flash of blue catches his eye. He twists his head for a moment, shot paused halfway to his mouth, when he sees he’s being watched. Not intently and not with any malice but...there’s a set of too-blue eyes tracking his every move.

Blue eyes in a very pretty face, dark beard with a flash of white teeth when he catches Rook staring. Rook flushes, tips the shot at him in recognition, and throws it back. 

He doesn’t choke, thank god, but it’s a near thing. Especially when Pratt claps him on the back, eyes in another direction, and murmurs something about chasing his own good time. He heads off towards a broad man bent over the pool table, blonde hair catching the overhead lights and eyes flickering between Pratt’s approach and the cueball he’s lining up on.

Well. At least one of them might get lucky tonight.

Fuck. How long’s it been since he’s had sex? Long enough that Rook orders another shot and beer, determined to put the thoughts from his mind. 

They’re just set in front of him when Rook becomes aware of someone sliding into the space to his right, instinctively shifting to let them near the bar. He isn’t surprised--and is absolutely shocked at the same time--to turn and meet those same blue eyes, same smug little grin. 

“Celebrating something?” The man murmurs, a hint of a tease in his voice, just enough distance between them that Rook doesn’t feel trapped.

“Yeah, actually.” Rook enthuses, ready to tell whoever’s willing to listen, grinning wide. “I just got made a Deputy!”

“Well, congratulations.” The man purrs before offering a hand. Rook shakes it, feels the way the fingers linger as he slides his hand away, and fights back a shiver. “John. And you, Mr. Newly-Appointed-Deputy?”

“Rook. And yeah, I know, I know. But that really is my name.”

John laughs, a little evil like he’d been ready to tease before Rook even said anything, shaking his head and motioning for the bartender. 

“An odd name, but nice. Rook. It suits you. And it rolls off the tongue well enough.”

Flirting. This is flirting. Rook is being flirted at--maybe not with since he’s not a very active participant at the moment but….Jesus, how long’s it been since someone even flirted with him?

He doesn’t get a chance to count the disappointing amount of _months_ it’s been because John’s leaning in towards the bartender, tipping his head towards Rook.

“Another round of shots for Deputy Rook and I, please.”

“I still have a--”

“You _do_.” John turns away with a grin, inked fingers sliding around the glass and lifting it. “Let’s get rid of that, shall we?”

“Feels a bit like someone’s trying to get me drunk.” Rook murmurs, but accepts the glass, tipping it back with a thick swallow.

Fucking whiskey. Always burns like hell. Rook’s only saving grace is that he manages to get a sip of his beer in before he does anything stupid like hiss or cough in front of who he’s pretty sure is the hottest guy in this place. And who’s dragging his eyes up and down Rook like he wants to eat him alive. 

The bartender puts the shots in front of them with a grin, wandering off to do a whole lot of nothing at the other end of the bar, and Rook wonders, briefly, if they’re being too obvious. He doesn’t get a lot of time to focus on it though because there’s a hand on his elbow and the gentlest of laughs and--

“I’d say you deserve to get a little drunk. What’s a little indulgence when it comes to a celebration?”

“You know what, John?” Rook tosses back the shot. He coughs a little this time but manages to talk right through it. “I like you.”

“What a coincidence.” John purrs but doesn’t say anything further because they’re both being bumped into by people trying to get to the bar. 

He looks annoyed, anger flashing across his face briefly--Jesus, this guy runs close to the surface. Rook would swear he caught literal bloodlust for half a second when John’s jostled closer than he wants to be by some loud fratboy type--but it all smooths out into another grin. He keeps his hand on Rook’s elbow, pulls lightly, tips his head back towards the darkened corner he’d been sitting in before. 

“Shall we go someplace a little less crowded? I’m all for large celebrations but there is a limit.”

“Agreed.” Especially because Rook’s not feeling very steady all of a sudden, the shots hitting him in tandem. “Lead the way.”

It feels a bit like he’s being led to his doom, if he’s being honest. But in the best sort of way. John’s hand is clasped in his, held tight to his lower back as he weaves in between the crowd like he’s done this a thousand times. Rook looks around a few times, just to make sure Pratt’s still laying it on thick over at the pool table--he might have to find a new ride home if the arm around Pratt’s waist is any indication--but lets himself be pushed into a booth along the back wall.

John settles in close to his side, close enough he almost drapes his leg over Rook’s knee when he neatly crosses them, and regards him with a close eye.

“So. Deputy Rook. Are you assigned here, then? In Lolo?”

“No, not really. Down in Hope County, just a bit south?” Rook swears he sees something flash across John’s face but it’s gone too quick to put a name to it. “They must be a bit desperate for deputies if they hired me, but it’s a lot of farmland and mountains. Probably pretty boring.”

“Hope County? Tonight is full of coincidences, it would seem. I’m living there at the moment.”

“Oh?” Rook tries to ignore the way the info makes his belly flip. Closer to Hope County is closer to his home and closer to his bed--which is the first King sized he’s ever owned and would look _really_ nice with John spread out on top of it. “What do you do down there?”

“A little of this and that.” John hedges and laughs when Rook’s eyes narrow. “I’m a lawyer. Don’t worry, I’m not doing anything that’s going to lead you to slapping the cuffs on me.”

He hesitates and there’s a long look once more, eyes half-lidded as he tips his beer to his lips, speaks around the mouth of it.

“Not yet, anyhow.”

“I think I’m supposed to tell you official Sheriff’s department property shouldn’t be misused like that.” Rook mumbles as John grins, leans in close enough Rook can smell the beer on his breath. 

“But?”

“But I think...you’d...uh...look really good in cuffs.”

John bursts out laughing, which does a number on Rook’s ego, but places a hand on his thigh which does _wonders_ for it. He shakes his head, tips his beer to his mouth, neatly finishing it off and placing it on the table a stretch away before curling back into his side. 

“You _fascinate_ me, Deputy Rook. Mind if I steal your attention for the night?”

“Y’can have it.” Rook slurs, drinking deeply, absolutely missing the way John’s eyes go dark and glinting, something almost evil in their depths.

They chat about everything and nothing for a while. John’s an _amazing_ conversationalist, though Rook is sure, the more and more alcohol John pushes into his hands, he’s not doing his part to keep up. He tells John about wanting to find freedom, learns John had been searching for the very opposite, following his brothers here after years apart. John moves steadily closer and closer, for no real reason since no one else has wandered around to this area of the bar, and Rook isn’t aware of just how close they are until there’s a dead stop the music and a screech of feedback.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we have officially found ourselves in the hour of darkness. Grab a partner--a willing partner!--and have some fun! You’ll get your five- and one-minute warnings just in time to put back on any clothes that you’ve found yourself lacking.”

“Wait,” Rook turns his head, catches the tail end of a grin far too wide on John’s face. “What?”

John shushes him, swings a leg over and neatly deposits himself in Rook’s lap just as the place goes dark. Well, not totally dark. There are still fairy lights strung up around the bar and a few strobes on the dancefloor going. But where Rook and John are, it’s barely enough that he can make out the lines of John’s body on top of him.

Not that he’s focused on what he can see. Rook’s more preoccupied with what he can _feel_ and what he can feel, right now, is John rocking a hard line into his hip with lazy motions. The music’s changed, something with a bassline to die for and sultry rhythm, and John seems to move to it without even trying.

“Didn’t you know?” John drapes arms around his neck, leans in so his breath tickles at Rook’s ear. “It’s a fun little game here. A time to have some fun without anyone knowing.”

It’s fine. It makes Rook question why Pratt made him come here of all places and he resolves himself to ask a stern “what the fuck?” tomorrow at work. But he’s got John blocking out his view of the bar and tracing fingers over his nape and Rook finds himself bracing his feet wider, giving John something more sturdy to sit on and making room for his hardening cock in his pants.

Of all the nights to not wear underwear. His zipper is going to become a problem very fast.

“You play this game often?” Rook doesn’t know where to put his hands, settles for just above John’s hips. “Should I feel special or...regular?”

“Oh, I don’t play it at _all_. It’s a sin, giving in to lust like this.”

Weird thing to say. Weird enough that Rook almost leans back to look at John--he’s got some latin tattooed on his hand but he never mentioned being particularly religious. But John cups his cheek and rolls his hips down hard enough to make Rook grind his teeth and it’s lost to the ether. 

“But you, Deputy, you are something...different. And it’s just different enough to make me curious.”

“Good curious or bad curious?”

“So many questions!” John laughs, bright and directly into his ear, catching the lobe between teeth just a touch too sharp. “Stop questioning and just _be_. Just enjoy the moment. We’ve only got an hour.”

Rook wants to say something about an hour not being very long. An hour is barely enough time, especially since they’re in public. But John rolls his hips again and it’s gone, slipping off his tongue. As far as lapdances go, it’s not the best Rook’s had. John’s more about need, hands grasping and yanking at his clothes, hips pushing forwards to grind occasionally instead of sticking to smooth movements.

But it’s good. Right. Exactly what Rook needs.

He gets with the program when John mutters a pissy “come on, come _on_ , don’t be some passive observer.” Cranks his hands tight on John’s hips and tugs him down, thrusts up like he can get inside him despite all the clothes. It makes John moan against his throat, wet and wanting, accompanied by a scrape of teeth.

“Needy thing.”

“Who’s talking?” Rook’s out of breath but it comes out sharp anyhow. “You’re on me like a dog. How else am I supposed to act?”

John laughs, unhinged and bright, rutting against his lap with little finesse to the moves. Rook can hear, distantly, the sounds of moans and guttural groans in the background. Everyone’s gotten with the program, apparently. The smell of sex makes him woozy, does him in quicker than the booze could, and he finds himself meeting every roll of John’s hips with a buck of his. 

It’s rough and uncontained and unpracticed because he’s pretty sure John wasn’t lying, he doesn’t do this often. He’s more grabbing hands and shoving hips than skill, hands finding their way around Rook’s throat. He tips his head back on instinct, trying not to get his airflow cut off, but doesn’t tell John to fuck off.

Rook’s never been choked before but he’s also never rutted up against a near stranger in a dark bar. Montana is proving to be a learning experience around every corner. 

“Can you--like this? Just like this?” John’s out of breath, leaned in close, fingers flexing on Rook’s throat. “For me?”

He can’t. It’s been a while but it hasn’t been that long and Rook learned back in high school the rutting doesn’t work for him. Not if he wants the grand finale. But if John can…

“Want you to.” He says instead of answering, yanking John in tight so every move is a grind that makes John shudder under his hands. “Come on. Come for me.”

It gets rough. John’s fingers dig in just enough that Rook’s vision goes hazy at the edges for a reason other than the shots in his belly. Everything too hot, sweat sticking his shirt to his lower back, and John’s kiss almost splits his lip. But it’s so good Rook can’t complain, especially when John jerks like he’s been shot and breathes a quiet “yes” into his mouth. 

John shakes on his lap, overstimulated because Rook’s not about to stop moving, and he only freezes when John yanks him into a kiss that’s softer. Begging, almost. Stop moving, just let him enjoy it. His neck stings when John peels his hands away, like he’d left nail marks there. 

“Alright?” Rook asks gently when John goes deadweight atop him with a sigh, hands flexing in Rook’s shirt now.

Grabby thing. Rook’s surprised by how much he likes it.

“Yes. Yes, I’m--yes.” John mumbles against his pulse, face tucked into Rook’s throat. “But you didn’t--”

“No, it’s alright. I’m--that was good for me too.” Rook snorts, pets a hand down John’s back. “You’d make a killing as a stripper if ‘lawyer’ doesn’t work out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“So...uh...can I see you again?” It feels stupid to ask but Rook wants to. Doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the happiness of getting his job or what but he...he wants a repeat. In a bed, against a wall, with a lot less clothes and people around. 

John snorts and there’s something in his tone, something Rook’s too drunk at the moment to understand.

“You said Hope County? Oh yes, Deputy. You’ll be seeing me again _very_ soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna see the plans for Kinktober? Make sure to check [this post](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/post/178633371556/happy-kinktober) on my Tumblr!


End file.
